Page 11 of Pack Baby for the Bratva
Ivan’s laugh was a sharp, bitter thing. "Beneficial? You’re trading a girl who looks like she’s still in school for a business deal."
Mary’s eyes filled with big fat tears. My chest ached for her.
"Please," she said, her voice breaking.
"Enough." Her father’s voice was a whip-crack.
I stepped forward, my shadow falling over her. She was tiny. Fragile. And she was looking at me like I was the monster under her bed.
"You don’t have to," I said, my voice low. "Not if you don’t want to."
Callum McCarthy’s face darkened. "The contract—"
"Can go to hell," I finished. I turned to my father, my voice a blade. "We haven’t had an arranged marriage in this family in twenty years. We don’t make these kinds of trades anymore."
My father’s face was a mask. "This will be beneficial for you."
My laugh was hollow. "You think this makes us strong? You think forcing a girl into a life she doesn’t want makes us better? It makes us monsters."
My father’s eyes flashed. "It’s a necessity."
"No. It’s a mistake.” I shook my head, my hands curling into fists. “And it ends now."
Mary's tears carved paths down her cheeks. Her mother cringed, looking as if she wanted to disappear into the sofa.
Callum McCarthy looked like he wanted to strangle me. Let him try.
I turned back to Mary, my voice softer than before. "You’re not marrying anyone. Not me. Not Ivan. Not anyone. Not unless you want to."
Her father’s face twisted. "You can’t—"
"I can," I said, my voice a whip-crack. "And I will. She can stay here until she is ready."
The room was silent. The fire popped. Somewhere outside, the rain began again, a steady drumbeat against the windows.
My father’s voice was low, dangerous. "Artem. This is not your decision. The marriage goes ahead."
I met his gaze, unflinching. "Only when she is ready. I want to get to know her first."
For the first time in my life, I saw my father hesitate. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to know I’d won.
Then he straightened, his voice cold. "We will discuss this later. In private."
I didn’t move. "There’s nothing to discuss."
Callum McCarthy’s mouth pursed into the tightest line as he decided on his next words. "You’re making a mistake, Petrov."
I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes on Mary. "Get her out of here and we'll continue the discussion."
Gregor didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped forward, his massive frame blocking the McCarthys’ view of the door. "This way, miss."
Mary hesitated, her eyes flicking between her father and me. Then she ran, but not toward the door, toward me. She grabbed my sleeve, her fingers digging in like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.
"Please," she whispered. "Please don't let him take me."
I looked down at her and something inside me snapped as I pried her fingers gently from my sleeve and nodded to Gregor. "Take her to the guest room. See that she’s comfortable while we talk."
“Mary, come here.” Callum McCarthy stood and took a step forward, his face mottled with rage.
